Messy Room

Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,
And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.
His workbook is wedged in the window,
His sweater's been thrown on the floor.
His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,
And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.
His books are all jammed in the closet,
His vest has been left in the hall.
A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,
And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
Donald or Robert or Willie or-
Huh? You say it's mine? Oh, dear,
I knew it looked familiar!

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Someone Ate The Baby

Someone ate the baby it's rather sad to say
Someone ate the baby so she won't be out to play
We'll never hear her whiney cry or have to feel if she is dry
We'll never hear her asking why why why someone ate the baby
Someone ate the baby it's absolutely clear
Someone ate the baby cause the baby isn't here
We'll give away her toys and clothes we'll never have to wipe her nose
Dad says that's the way it goes someone ate the baby
Someone ate the baby what a frightful thing to eat
Someone ate the baby though she wasn't very sweet
It was a heartless thing to do the policemen haven't got a clue
I simply can't imagine who would go and (burp) eat the baby

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Smart

My dad gave me one dollar bill
'Cause I'm his smartest son,
And I swapped it for two shiny quarters
'Cause two is more then one!
And then I took the quarters
And traded them to Lou
For three dimes-- I guess he didn't know
That three is more than two!
Just then, along came old blind Bates
And just 'cause he can't see
He gave me four nickels for my three dimes,
And four is more than three!
And I took the nickels to Hiram Coombs
Down at the seed-feed store,
And the fool gave me five pennies for them,
And five is more than four!
And I went and showed my dad,
And he got red in the cheeks
And closed his eyes and shook his head--
Too proud of me to speak!

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Dreadful

Someone ate the baby.
It's rather sad to say.
Someone ate the baby
So she won't be out to play.
We'll never hear her whiney cry
Or have to feel if she is dry.
We'll never hear her asking 'Why?'
Someone ate the baby.

Someone ate the baby.
It's absolutely clear
Someone ate the baby
'Cause the baby isn't here.
We'll give away her toys and clothes.
We'll never have to wipe her nose.
Dad says, 'That's the way it goes.'
Someone ate the baby.

Someone ate the baby.
What a frightful thing to eat!

[...] Read more

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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They've Put A Brassiere On A Camel

They've put a brassiere on a camel,
She wasn't dressed proper, you know.
They've put a brassiere on a camel,
So that her humps wouldn't show.
And they're making other respectable plans,
They're even even insisting the pigs should wear pants,
They'll dress up the ducks if we give them the chance
Since they've put a brassiere on a camel.
They've put a brassiere on a camel,
They claim she's more decent that way.
They've put a brassiere on a camel,
The camel had nothing to say.
They squeezed her into it, i'll never know how,
They say that she looks more respectable now,
Lord knows what they've got in mind for the cow,
Since they've put a brassiere on a camel.

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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I've Been Working So Hard

I've been working so hard you just wouldn't believe,
And I'm tired!
There's so little time and so much to achieve,
And I'm tired!
I've been lying here holding the grass in its place,
Pressing a leaf with the side of my face,
Tasting the apples to see if they're sweet,
Counting the toes on a centipede's feet.
I've been memorizing the shape of that cloud,
Warning the robins to not chirp so loud,
Shooing the butterflies off the tomatoes,
Keeping an eye out for floods and tornadoes.
I've been supervising the work of the ants
And thinking of pruning the cantaloupe plants,
Calling the fish to swim into my nets,
And I've taken twelve thousand and forty-one breaths,
And I'm TIRED!

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Your Time's Comin

I knew that she belonged to someone else at the time,
But lonesome-lookin' women are a weakness of mine;
And so I bought that stuff about the love he never gave her,
And I figured I would love her some, and do us both a favor.
But just when I got up to leave, he walked in the door
And I guess I thought he'd be surprised.
He looked at me as if to say, 'I've been here before'
And he offered me this word to the wise:

cho; You know she's a cheater, son
And you think that you're the one
That's got a lot of what it takes to change her;
I've no doubt that you can get her
You ain't much, but that don't matter
Nothin' suits her better than a stranger.

(by Kristofferson, Silverstein)

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Bubblin' Up

I used to be a prancer
a one-eyed song and dancer
But eyes for true romance
I didn't even try
I'd get'em and forget'em
But I never could stay with'em
Cause I thought my well of love had done run dry
But now it's bubblin' up
I feel it bubblin' up
And you can't hold back this true love
no matter what you do
Because it's bubblin' up
(you can hear it baby)
It's bubblin' up
And it'll soon be bubblin' over just for you
(Get that look off your face!)
I know the one I met you
You loved me and I let you
But I'd gladly bet you
that it wouldn't last too long

[...] Read more

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Picture Puzzle Piece

One picture puzzle piece
Lyin' on the sidewalk,
One picture puzzle piece
Soakin' in the rain.
It might be a button of blue
On the coat of the woman
Who lived in a shoe.
It might be a magical bean,
Or a fold in the red
Velvet robe of a queen.
It might be the one little bite
Of the apple her stepmother
Gave to Snow White.
It might be the veil of a bride
Or a bottle with some evil genie inside.
It might be a small tuft of hair
On the big bouncy belly
Of Bobo the Bear.
It might be a bit of the cloak
Of the Witch of the West

[...] Read more

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Where The Sidewalk Ends

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
and before the street begins,
and there the grass grows soft and white,
and there the sun burns crimson bright,
and there the moon-bird rests from his flight
to cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
and the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
we shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow
and watch where the chalk-white arrows go
to the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
and we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
for the children, they mark, and the children, they know,
the place where the sidewalk ends.

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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